


Aldebaran

by NyxSolei



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, M/M, Navy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18789520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxSolei/pseuds/NyxSolei
Summary: Wonshik gets drafted into the Korean Naval forces, and discovers a lot about himself - who he is, and who he wants to be.





	1. ALDEBARAN01

It’s not the salty air that makes his skin tingle with excitement. It’s not even the pretty clouds, towering high above and painting the blue sky with white floating softness. It’s not the sun, that warms up every single unhidden part of the land, what seals this summer day to its fullest.

Not the sound of waves, crashing somewhere far away, perhaps an half an hour walk from where he stands, nor the buzzing of different bugs, taking their way over the wind that blows so intensely in this part.

It’s none of those, rather than the large gate he’s facing in awe - a three meter at least, large stony gate that stand warden ahead of him. The bricks are somewhat old, and it seems like the tide’s breeze has taken its toll on those - turning them marvelously smooth and glistening with wetness.

Suddenly, he feels small - it’s such a large wall that he can’t catch the ends of it to both of its sides, and he stands dumbfoundedly, gaping at the gate that soon, will be the only thing that will part him from the world he used to know so well. It’s a frightening thought, but he came here with it in mind: today, he’s parting his life, and becomes a part of something greater, something that there aren’t enough words to describe the power of it. It’s made mostly of people, each one acting as a cork in the system, doing their assigned job, and because it is built of humans like that, it’s what makes the whole thing so _inhuman_.

Just like this gate before him, it’s a struggle to see to what extent this huge organization will get. He has no clue, but it’s an adventure he must make, as every man in Korea does.

It’s somewhat relaxing, knowing that he’s small like this- just a miniscule part. Just one man of many. It’s bringing him content along with some peace.

 

Someone shouts from the bus, and his eyes trail the last thing that came along with him from the civilian world. As the bus leaves, he’s left with a couple - 30 at most - men that look as much confused as he is. Some wear a tired expression, and some seem so eager to _do something, anything_ , that it gives him some motivation too. He grips tightly at his bag, and wanders around the group, watching how no matter where he goes - the wall is still there, and still towers next to all of them. Maybe it’s just him that gives this gate a meaning, and maybe this gate is supposed to meaningful.

 

He has no time to think it through as a man in a white uniform calls the group to order, and the gate finally opens. Large iron doors creek as they move, and the man steps outside to greet the group. He looks a little older than the rest of the men he arrived with, and his shoulders are decorated with three golden stripes. They’re shining, and it looks like the rest of his worn decor matches them perfectly, with golden buttons, golden badges, and a sewn-in name over his right part of the chest. The uniform is stunning by itself, and gives the man a certain type of attention that a man can’t get looking any other way. However, the man itself reeks of charisma nonetheless, and the pearly fabric only amplifies it. He stands, face stern, but not unkind, and tells the rest to get in two lines as he will explain the process.

Suddenly, everyone looks uninteresting next to that man. To that soldier.

 

“You.” The soldier points at him, “What is your name, _jangjeon_ g?”

Words do not come easy when met with such unmatchable charisma, and he stutters, “Kim Wonshik.” He manages to blurt out, and he feels the eyes of the rest boring a hole through him.

“Well, _jangjeong_ Kim Wonshik, join the rest?” The soldier asks, and only at that moment does he notices that his group already formed two lines, but he’s not a part of them. In fact, his legs refused to move much ever since he met with the large, stunning, stone wall.

“Yes.” He mumbles, and takes place as last in the lines. He ducks his head, and hopes to become as un-noticeable as being a soldier can make you.

Just a cork in the machine.

 

“Good. Now that you have formed two lines, I will explain.” The man in white speaks, and naturally, everyone pays attention to him. They cannot do anything but that. Everything from his posture, to the good-natured expression and his kind gestures is eye catching. Perhaps this is why he got assigned this position, aiding the newest recruits to the Naval Training Center in Jinhae.

“My name is _Sangbyeon_ Choi Siwon, you can call me sir, and you must not call me by my name. It’s mandatory for you to know it, and also mandatory for you not to use it.”  
There’s silence of processing. There it is- the first rule they’re set to live by for the next few years. No one speaks a word, but the stillness of everyone, while all the nature-originated noises are still very much present, speak _volumes_ . It’s really happening. They’re enlisting. _He’s enlisting_.

“I will be your commander for the next few months of your training.” He shifts in place, taking an even taller stance that accentuates the news he’s speaking, “Today, there are many things that are required to be taken care of. Logistically-wise. You are allowed to ask questions. You are not allowed to speak when walking. Do not speak to other soldiers within the grounds of the training center that you are not familiar with.” He rests his arms behind his back, clasping them together and taking a long look at the apprehensive batch before him.

“Any questions before we enter the grounds?”

 

No one dares to move.

 

“Good.” He gives what seems to be a smile, but Wonshik is too far away to see. He’s lucky for that, since he is the most nervous of the whole two lines of men. The sweat that’s dripping on his chin is both from frayed nerves and the sun’s heat. It’s warm, so warm out here - and it makes him wonder if inside is just the same. Before he knows it, they start moving.

The unsure looks around him relaxes him to an extent - at least he’s not the only one who is clueless about what this day will look like.

 

He catches a snippet of the sun’s comforting rays before getting pushed into a long line of mundane labor. Firstly, they discard their clothes, and place them in a box, sending the content back home. They change into grey, bare of personality wardrobe, and it’s only the beginning of the feeling of being a small, unnoticed part of something much larger. Now that they all look the same, and have the same stoic expression, Wonshik can’t help but feel he’s _losing something_.

 

They’re brought into another caravan, and counted again.

The dry painted walls of the caravans match their insignificant hue, and the scenery looks grey and gloomy. Upon walking in, the stench of something burning - probably the plastic windows - absorbs their senses, and adding up with the humid feeling of being next to shore, it grants them a true feeling of being in a completely different place than what they’re used to. Wonshik holds onto his small bag, having nothing better to do with his hands. He’s sweating horribly, and they’re not given much time outside, in the fresh wind from the sea, rather than being dragged from one hallway to another, completely ignorant of what’s going on around them.

No one tells them anything, no one explains _why_ they’re doing what they’re doing, but Wonshik is fine with that. He’s not one to ask those kind of questions.

 

After waiting a long line, he makes his steps through the drab hallway and reaches to a little cubicle where two soldiers are waiting. They have an insignia of medicine, he notices that before everything else - the syringes, anesthetics, different tubes and the masks on those men’s faces. With a puzzled expression, he lets the others do their job. He strips of the shirt, and quickly enough gets stung with different injections, to his arm. Dizziness climbs soon after, not from the substance injected to him, rather than the speed of the whole ordeal. They’re professionals, and do their job quickly, quietly and efficiently.

He doesn’t have any time to sit and get back to his senses, as before he even notices, he’s on his legs again, walking to another grey, boring, hallway.

 

 

* * *

 

The night in the training camp is very different from day, and to anyone that doesn’t dwell there, it will look like two completely different places. The aura changes from lively and full of vigor to something a lot more intimate. The dark hued sky covers the camp so perfectly, that even the camp’s patrol is hard to spot. Each of the soldiers that resident there get his own little bubble, and just like that everyone does their mundane, nightly things. None disturbs other with his fussing, and just like that they dwell in parallel to one another.

The camp’s newest residents, platoon 245, are no exception to this. The wind blows harder, and it’s slightly colder than day, but inside the small caravan, it’s warmer, and as they lay out their mattresses, it’s even better. They were given two rooms for the platoon - about 13 people in each room. Wonshik is assigned to residence A-1, while the rest of his fellow soldiers are in A-2.

 

He places his bag neatly in his individual box, and does just like everyone else- changing his daily uniform to the sleeping slacks they were given. It’s around 8PM, and even though Wonshik isn’t usually preparing to sleep at this kind of hour, the whole day drained him - just like the rest of his platoon mates - to a complete fatigue state.

 

From the very first day in there, he has changed - visually and mentally. He never thought it’d be so hard to do nothing active, rather than going from one station to another, signing here, getting documents there, getting more new and bland clothes. He thought that service would be something completely different, full of physical training, full of people yelling out orders, but maybe he has seen too many films. Today, was nothing alike that. No one yelled, and the most physical activity he did today was walking through hallways.

However, the biggest change is his visual; his dark hair shaved to small stubs and covered under a beret, carrying the ROK’s Navy insignia over it. It’s like a seal, signifying that he is, indeed there, doing what he’s doing. Now, he’s not a citizen anymore, rather than just a soldier, one of many in the Navy, and even one of many more in the army.

 

He gives out an exhausted sigh as he sits down on the thin mattress, which is the only thing blocking him from the floor. His eyes glance over to what others are doing, and how they’re spending the last minutes of their first day, and finds that many of them are decorated with a gloomy expression. Wonshik can relate to an extent, but he has chosen this kind of service, so he isn’t in position to complain. No one pushed him here, and it was his own whim to serve in the Navy.

A shudder passes through his spine, and he decides it’s time to end this day, so he lays back on the grey futon, and detaches himself from other noises around him. He stops hearing the ministrations other tend to with their own clutter. He stops hearing the buzzing from the lamps. He stops hearing the wind’s howl, and how the window creaks in company of it. He can only hear the waves, crashing somewhere not very far- constant and never-changing. He can almost imagine standing there, on a boat, and _feeling_ the tide beneath him rocking the deck from side to side, lulling it in the vast blue waters. It’s a lot larger than what he’ll ever imagine, and what he can even _comprehend_ , which is what makes it so intriguing. The sea is endless, and he’s nothing but a single soldier out of a single platoon, of a single division in the Navy training center, in ROK’s military. He might as well have been a droplet of water, and he’d have the same influence in both cases.

However, the waters are eternal, and he’s not, and just like the tide he must claim his rest. With that thought in mind, he finally drifts off to a dreamless sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

“Operating on a ship is not a simple task.” Their instructor explains, a man that looks somewhat close to his forties, with a never-changing expression of amusement. The uniform is slightly bigger than the man, who is a well-rounded person nonetheless. He walks from one side of the class to another, thinking about his words. Wonshik notices that the instructor takes his time with speaking. Some may mistake it for being slow, but he’s just fumbling over placing the correct expression, and not just the correct - the _most_ correct.

“You’re a team, and even though each of you will have different jobs, you are to operate as one, and guide the ship into your destination.”  The crinkles around the older’s kind eyes remind Wonshik of his father, but the thought is quickly discarded, and he writes down messily what the instructor says. He speaks about communication, and the importance of it, and how all of the soldiers on-board should know each other well enough to speak comfortably, but not too much. It’s one of the classes Wonshik prefers listening to, mostly because it differs from the never-ending classes about weaponry, types of engines and other things he couldn’t find himself listening to. It’s only the end of the first week, but Wonshik feels tired.

He’s tired of listening to things he doesn’t really understand, nor feels the need to know them. Surely, he’s in the army now, and every single item around him is there to remind him that, but he can’t comprehend the reason of things that he’s taught. He imagined the army to be very different, perhaps more action-wise, or more interest-wise. He didn’t expect sitting in classes and be taught about mundane naval things, but then again, who is he to question those things?

 

“Soldier?” The instructor asks, and only by then does he snap out of his daze, noting that he must have drifted off to sleep, _again_. Wonshik straightens himself and watches the older with apprehensive gaze. It’s nothing unusual for him, already - the rolling eyes of his fellow classmates, the somewhat amused smiles of some too, and the punishment he’ll have to carry out this time. He sighs, and bows in apology when the instructor tells him to step out of the class and wait for him.

 

He stands with hands crossed behind his back, and gaze lifted upwards to the sky above, covering the greyness of the training camp. There’s a nice breeze in the air, and the usual scent of ocean mixes wonderfully with some summer rain. Harmless droplets soak in the uniform, and Wonshik shudders at the contact of wind with the wet fabric. It’s not the first time he gets punished, and at this point, he tries to muse himself with droll occupations. The first few times he was punished - which happened very quickly, as he found out - he would talk himself into becoming a better soldier, and get angry with himself, mentally for acting so poorly. However, now, he’s tired of getting punished. He’s doing his utmost best to listen, stay awake, follow orders, just be one of many - like a drop of water in the sea - but evidently, fails. He should have known that the army isn’t an _understanding_ space for men like him, and it only frustrates him more.

 

“Soldier,” The instructor comes out of the class, and Wonshik straightens himself, watching the horizon, and not looking at the man as he was taught. It’s disrespectful to look in the eyes of higher-ranked personnel, and at least this boundary, Wonshik has no trouble to oblige.

“State your name and personal number.” He doesn’t sound angry, rather than simply disappointed.

“Jangjeon Kim Wonshik, soldier 1284083, sir.” The words roll off his tongue so familiarly, as he repeated those endlessly in the passing week. Each time, they brought a new reaction from different men around him. It takes time to soldiers to memorise their personal ID, but he has repeated it countless times, memorising it completely.

“Platoon 245?” The older asks.

“Yes sir.”

Then, the man sighs. It’s odd, this reaction. The whole passing week his commanders and instructors simply got angry with him, and he would stand still, waiting for their raised voices to pass and let the sound of the ocean be heard again.

“You’re a troublemaker, Jangjeon Kim.” The man chuckles, and Wonshik straightens himself even more. This reaction- this whole situation is not normal. He understands anger, he understands commands and punishments, but this is simply offbeat. It catches him unprepared and he tries to hide his nerves deep behind a still composure.

“I’m going to give you some punishment, but I want you to do it and think about something.”

This too, is very different from what Wonshik knows.

The man walks to face Wonshik, unlike the others that stood from the side, like protocol orders them, and looks at his somewhat fazed gaze. There are a few beats of silence, and the soldier does his best not to falter from his fluctuated stance.

“I’m going to assign you to clean the platoon’s assigned docks. The cleaning time is between 8PM and 10PM. Ask your commander to give you the needed resources for this and carry the punishment out tonight.” He explains, and Wonshik nearly sags in his spot, “At your ease, go back to your platoon.”

 

* * *

 

 

The breeze only intensifies with the night, as the tide reaches closer and caresses the shore, washing away any remnants of the day. The waves crash softly against the bay, rocking the different ships that dock there for the night, as if lulling them to sleep, even though each of them is vacant but supplies.

The moon is nothing but a silver line, reflecting its high light over the bay, outlining the heavy machinery and the delicate wooden path that leads to the docking stations. There are some night-lights that the base provides, hung above any soldier’s head and reflecting a warm beam of faint glow. The electric hum of those and the endless crash of waves could lull anyone to sleep, but there are some that must stay awake.

Each time the broom or the bucket hits the wooden path, it feels like intrusion to the silence around him, so the soldier takes care in carrying those quietly to the port. Most of his platoon mates are probably already preparing for the following day, either by memorizing the material of this day, or by resting their non-stop overworking minds, to be fresh for anything that they might meet.

However, the soldier is assigned a punishment, not for the first time, and must carry it out. He sighs, as it only seems fit, and pours the content of the bucket over the wood. It creeks some beneath his feet, but the sound is overpowered by the natural noises around him.

There is some solace and peace, he notes, in being alone this way. His mind gushes like the tide, full of the precedent days. The soldier finds trouble in remembering all the details, but he can definitely pull the way a ship is built out of his mind. He glances over to those docked at the port.

The moon shines shyly behind the huge vessels, lighting the harsh outlines as they rock from side to side against the crash of waves.

At this moment, Wonshik realizes how much beauty does this scenery holds. He can recall, that all those days ago, when he wholeheartedly went to take the tests for the Navy, this is why he wanted to join. The image of himself on one of those monstrous machines is something he can't grasp his imagination around, and wants to experience himself.

With the broom in his hand, and the water long-soaked beneath him, Wonshik can't bring himself to look away. It's beautiful beyond anything he previously imagined, and the raw power emerging from just looking at something overflows and enchants his heart.

Yes, he decides, he wants to be on one of those.

As silence grows, it's easier to pay attention to the vastness of the dark blanket behind the grandiose vehicles, lulling the horizon to dream.

There's so much behind the edge of the soldier's sight, so many undiscovered waves that are born from a place far away. Perimeters to circle and vision to meet in a never-ending ocean. The moon ignited the froth meeting silently with the port, and as the man is standing still, he realizes, there's nothing still about his position.

Someday, when he's done with his Naval studies, he could be on one of those and explore what he can't see from here.

There will always be horizons to explore, and the soft lull, naturally created by the rise and tide of waters is enchanting.

It's calling, breathtaking, stunning and drawing the soldier in. There are some soft murmurs of the wind, and only when the broom hits the ground, forgotten and let loose, does Wonshik realizes he has been staring motionlessly.

No, not staring - adoring the view.

The soldier blinks away the salt from his eyes, and notices that the now-familiar scent is mixed with something else.

An earthy, man-made smell, rising from unknown place nearby. A greasy, impure scent that doesn't fit with the natural aura of the port.

The smell of cigarettes.

Kim Wonshik is not a smoker, never was, nor will be, as the thought of doing something with such repulsive consequences is unbearable. The soldier picks up the utensils, and upon seeing a thin line of smoke, he follows, looking in the darkness for the source of it.

When the distant lighthouse's lamp illuminates and blinds him as he walks on the damp ground, he sees the grey vapor more clearly. He's most definitely not alone here, and by instinct, Wonshik wants to figure the identity of the smoker.

A shiver travels down his spine when the option of the mysterious smoker to be another officer that will, most likely find a fault within Wonshik's actions. However, the soldier's legs work on their own accord, and before he knows it, his eyes catch a dark figure, wearing what seems to be the same, grey clothes, just like he does.

The air is unmistakably heavy, carrying the salty humidity, and just ever so slightly, the thin line of the fume penetrating the scenery, originating from a fellow soldier that doesn’t seem to be any higher in rank than Wonshik is.

The latter doesn’t seem to notice him, and the soldier decides it’s best not to bother him. However, it is only upon turning around to start cleaning does he hear the soft whimper emerging from the man that is now behind him. That causes Wonshik to stop, hitching his breath for a beat, only to release it when another cry is emitted to the wind, confirming that the unknown soldier is tearful.

It isn’t anything new, as far as Wonshik knows - even his platoon has those few individuals that broke down into tears on the first couple of days. It’s understandable, in Wonshik’s eyes, however, pointless, as they have no choice but to withstand the current situation. In his mind-set, he tends to keep away from facing those instances, and let those who are much more talkative than him handle it.

This time, he could walk away as well, but with each passing moment, with each crash of waves and buzz of bugs, Wonshik knows his curiosity will not allow him to ignore it. He sighs despite himself, and the soldier turns around yet again, minding the sounds of the broom meeting the ground, and the rustle of the bucket.

The unidentified soldier is still there, and the smoke rising slowly from the bud between his lips is still very much thick and invading. The unfamiliar one wipes his tears, and throws the cigarette to the ground, walking into a lighter spot, and allowing Wonshik to figure out his identity.

As Wonshik is left to his own duties, the parallel meeting that has just occured is long forgotten at the back of his mind.

 

* * *

 

Countless pairs of polished, black shoes, rhythmically stepping in unison, making further progress in through the parade ground is an empowering sound, not just to him, but rather to anyone that would every get to hear it. The fallen cherry blossoms on the ground muffle some of the powerful marching, but the soldier walking amidst his platoon mates, feels how the floor below them carries the impact of their shoes to each direction of the grounds. His heart flutters in excitement, and the beat matches to the pace.

When his platoon stops, finding their place among countless other soldiers - all dressed in festive white uniform, his heart doesn’t cease the measured tempo, and even without the drums, Wonshik could have continued marching in perfect rate, listening only to how excited he is.

The spring in Changwon brings with it all kinds of different distractions, and yet, to Wonshik, they all seem special today. Even if his white cap is collecting petals, and the air is humid and salty, causing the men to perspire in the ceremonial uniform, it all becomes a soft, dull piece of the background. He cannot pay attention to those things, even though, all those days ago- when Wonshik had only started training, he probably would, as today is the day that any new recruited men awaits for.

The end of basic and navy training.

Thinking of those words sends numerous sparks of joy throughout his body, and when his platoon leader steps ahead of them, shouting his salute to their seniors on the stage, Wonshik’s mind becomes blank.

When he shouts his salute, raising his hand along with the rest of the platoon, the sounds become mute, and as if a machine, he does what they have been trained to do for the past two weeks. Not just him, not just the simple soldier that is Jangjaeong Kim Wonshik, but the whole massive amount of now-trained men. All in white, all carrying the same symbol of the Navy, all eager as much as he is. The sea of people acting in perfect unison swallows his individual actions, and the feeling that has been lately blooming within his chest overtakes any other sense - the feeling of being a part of something much larger.

The feeling of pride in those men, that to many other would seem faceless, but to Wonshik, they’re his brothers, those he must depend on and trust as they would be assigned to new titles and paths. No one would do their work for them, and they are the only source of their product.

His heart swells with joy.

Soldier Kim may be just a small piece of this massive ocean, but he cannot be taken out, as his role is important, and whatever he may be assigned, he would be the only person to do so.

There’s something very significant in being insignificant in that manner.

 

“Jangjeon Kim Wonshik!” An officer calls out, and on an instinct, the man steps out of his platoon, saluting the other and walking to him. Only a moment later, he’s allowed to remove his saluting hand, and only a moment later, he receives his assignment.

 

Only a moment later, he becomes Jangjeon Kim Wonshik, Engine Fitter for the ship Hyun Sihak.

 


	2. ALDEBARAN02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are those who break, but Wonshik isn’t the one to break this way. No, he’s a cog, and that’s all he will be. Cogs do not cry at night like that soldier he saw back then. Cogs do not imagine. Cogs have their job, and he will do it damn good. There’s an odd sense of pride to it, knowing he’s doing exactly what he’s supposed to do, that he meets the system’s expectations.
> 
> Ah! also! Sowi is a rank equal to First Lieutennant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweats nervously;;  
> this took a while, and I've been working on it non-stop for the last few months. I hope that the next installment will suit your expectation and you will find it likeable!

The weapon slides forwards, metal meeting metal in a soft clung. It would leave a mark on the machine in front of him; an unpleasant scratch that would join many others before this one.

With a huff, no louder than a whisper, he moves the belt that hangs tightly around his body, retrieving the M16 to his back, allowing him to inspect the machine better.

Wonshik pays this action no mind as it has become a habit, similar to saluting upon meeting officers, or placing the beret neatly on his head each morning.

The ceremonial white uniform was discarded quickly and long forgotten in his personal storage on board. Now, the beret fits a grey camo suit, that has become his daily wardrobe as he works on the ship. 

 

Hanging over his shoulder the rifle, the soldier leans closer and marks down a few things on his stack of papers. Most mornings and night that’s what he would do - tour the lower half of the ship to take an initial look at his engines, but mostly greet the nails and screws that have become lose with the ship’s eternal rocking.

 

It has been a year ever since Wonshik completed his initial training, and even though starting as a terrible and problematic soldier, the work he has been assigned to is something that is very natural to him- waking up to shifts, eating the cans saved from when the ship docks, talking to the limited personnel on ship. Along the loud machines and the grandiose engine below the deck, the soldier has become accustomed to the odd colleagues that he is working with.

 

The sun is incredibly high this day - or so he thought until the soldier exited the engine room, to find it’s already past sunset. The ivory sheen of the moon greets his eyes, caressing softly the horizon around the ship. The dark waters are painted in streaks of eluisive white, reaching from the shallow waves over to the rocking vehicle. It’s silent - unlike the heavy drumming of engines and his ears are finally at rest.

 

Soon, soldier Kim Wonshik would set, just like the long forgotten sun and will descend into a well deserved rest.

 

* * *

 

Breakfasts are always colorful, not because of the canned goods he’s fed with, rather than it’s the only time of the day he can see all of the ship’s residents.

 

They’re rarely together like that - spread across a couple of folding tables and chatting freely. Of course, on the first day he arrived, Wonshik simply sat down wherever he saw and empty spot.

Soldiers appeared around his fresh and unblemished appearance and he simply stuck to the same familiar faces ever since.

 

That was a year ago. Now, it would be odd for the highest ranking non-officers soldiers to sit anywhere but together.

 

“Did you know that the Chinese Peacock isn’t actually a peacock?”

 

That’s how he met Jaehwan.

 

“Let me guess,” And Hongbin as well- “It’s a butterfly.” The two say unanimously, yet in very opposed tones.

 

“Yes!” The former swings his arms in excitement, knocking off the table his cup, then instantly- out of habit- ducks to pick it up without missing a beat. His folded beret falls next, but Jaehwan is a soldier who is trained to accustom his mess. His eyes expand in wonder and look straight at his peers, “It isn’t even Chinese! It’s originally from the Himalaya and Australia! Isn’t that cool?” With that, the soldier grasps, for the first time this morning, his spoon.

 

The grey sleeve that isn’t even buttoned gets covered with some of the food on his plate, yet Jaehwan doesn’t even see any of it.

 

It was hard for Wonshik to believe- and still is- that Jaehwan, the messiest soldier he has ever seen, is the ship’s medic. With constantly unbuttoned sleeves and overgrown hair that causes him to become the captain’s favourite object of punishment, the soldier is the ship’s personnel only solution to illness and wounds. Wonshik has made a note to take good care of himself and reduce as much as possible visits to doctor Lee Jaehwan.

 

“Astounding.” Hongbin sighs, nursing a third or fourth cup of coffee. 

 

The latter doesn’t even spare a glance at Jaehwan, but the conversation continues. It’s an odd relationship the two share- an indifferent harmony that once in a while sparks either into vocal arguments, forcing the neighbour soldiers to intervene and detach one from the other, before it escalates into something more violent. Or, sometimes, not very rarely, it blooms into mutual friendship. Jaehwan talks, and Hongbin listens. They match well in a way, but only for short periods, and in a way, their roles within the ship keep them away enough to stay in this friendship.

 

While Jaehwan is a medic- a day shift role, Hongbin is asleep for the major time of the sun hours. Being an Oceanographer, the blasé soldier that chugs down canned coffee like water, is awake mostly at night, doing things in the control room along with the radar readers that Wonshik could never bother to understand. Hongbin tried to explain a couple of times- back then when they were just assigned to share a cabin.

 

Nowadays, Wonshik meets his sleeping form more than anything, and they have learned to show a trait of friendship in a shared silence- Hongbin doesn’t wake him up when waking for a shift and vice versa.

 

The daily life within the brigade are very different from the ones in his old platoon- on land. However, even when each day is like the one before, there’s some peace in knowing that just like the day before, everyone has a role- be it Jaehwan, Hongbin or him- they know what they must do and achieve each day, fulfilling their respective goals. Like the day before, they are allowed to have time to break the routine of work and simply talk, be friendly and find fuel for more hard work that looms with each sunset and sunrise.

 

The tension that piles with the turn of the clock slowly diminishes as the chatter of peers and higher ranks along with the steady beats of cutlery, accompanied by the aroma of food and coffee fills the room. In a sense- like the Hyun Sihak in the vast ocean, Wonshik too, is a mere single piece in a vast cantine with dozens of look alikes.

 

“Hey Shik-ah.” Jaehwan’s hushed voice wakes him from the day-dream, “I think that the officer behind you is on his way to you.”

 

Before Wonshik can even compose himself, a towering shadow greets his peripheral vision and in an instant, he rises to his feet to salute- not daring to move before he’s given the command.

 

The noise dies ou as he stretches on the spot and like the tide, returns as the officer roughly says- “At ease.”

 

If there’s anything that does connect Jaehwan and Hongbin that are still seated, is the endless love they share towards ridiculating Wonshik next to officers. The two snicker some as he drops his salute and waits for the higher ranked to talk to him. He makes a note to scold them after listening to the officer. 

 

“Soldier Kim,” The officer addresses him, somewhat holding back in his tone, “What is your rank?” There’s a hint of tiredness in his voice as well, and Wonshik’s heart could not beat any louder.

 

“Sir,” Wonshik starts- not shouting, because it is unneeded in this area, “Ilbyeong, sir.” He replies.

It’s all that is required of him, keeping his gaze locked with the horizon as the muscle under his uniform palpitates harshly and loudly- louder than any unharmonized cacophony in the canteen. 

 

It’s unusual for such a high ranking officer of the ship to speak to someone that isn’t in his axiom. Someone like an engine fitter that was just listening to the regular bickering of his peers definitely does not fall under that definition.

 

“Good lord.” The older exhales heavily and Wonshik swears his heart skips a beat- that cannot be anything good. Not an exhale like that, and not from an officer. He doesn’t even remember this officer - must be ones from the land- just a visitor for checkups- and yet, what has Wonshik done to draw such disdain?-

“Boy, the captain, your commander, wants to see you by the end of breakfast.

 

* * *

 

The door closes and the silence in the room only grows. The salty air is suddenly nauseating and even the soft lull of waves cannot quieten the thumping between the soldier’s ears. He doesn’t dare to move, as he has not been given the command to do so. Instead, his muscles are stretched, feet sunken in the ground, sturdily, and eyes watching only the horizon in front of him.

 

“At ease.” The older of the two cuts through the stale silence, and as if life has returned to his body, Wonshik drops his salute and takes a small, undistinguished breath.

 

“Sit down, son.” The officer says, and Wonshik obliges, moving the rifle to rest between his legs, out of habit. His eyes fall to the many items on the commander’s table. His nerves enhance his focus but rather than focusing on the conversation that’s about to occur, Wonshik’s mind creates a puzzle out of the pictures and belongings that belong to his commander.

 

As usual, the framed picture of his two daughters is on the right side of the table- two curled girls, no older than 10 years old, smiling to their fullest. Next to it, there’s a cup with stale coffee, decorated with bright, hand-drawn letters, stating- “Number 1 dad”.

 

However, on the other side of the table, there’s a stack of papers- reports, from what Wonshik can see. Countless notes scattered around, over and beneath the radio device, constantly making sounds, coming to life and delivering messages from the ship’s crew. He used to listen to those on his visits to the commander’s office but they have disembarked into background clamor.

 

Here it’s easy to forget one side or the other - as if this little ecosystem rips the person from reality, and in Wonshik’s case; that apprehensive man, looking at a huge wall with a gate that now is long forgotten. Once, a man with a lighter skin tone, less marks from the sun, having no direction but whatever the world is going to throw at him, to a tanned mechanic, buffed and decorated with freckles and uniform as one, receiving the news-

 

“I am resigning, son.”

 

“What?” Wonshik reacts before thinking - not because he’s surprised by the words, rather than he has acted sooner than the sentence registers in his mind. The officer bursts into laughter and the soldier can’t help the embarrassment creep in, causing him to yank his chin down immediately.

 

“Wonsik,” The officer repeats, “Have I ever told you about my daughters?”

 

Wonshik hesitates, then- “No, sir.”

 

There’s something about officers, even the kind ones like his commander, that makes soldiers feel as if they’re under some test; even the unharmful ones, for example, whether or not a certain soldier remembers whether his officer told him about his daughters. For someone like Ilbyeong Kim, it’s even more nerve-wracking as most of the times he’s spoken to, he replies in the same intellectual way he had just exhibited.

 

“Well,” The man exhales, taking the picture in his hands, “I have two of them. One is 15 and the other is 17.”

 

“What?” Wonshik asks, not because he have not heard, but because- “They look so young in the picture, sir.”

 

The officer nods, “You see son, I’ve been in service for the last 10 years, I think it’s time for me to quit being an officer and start being a father.”

 

If Wonshik knew how to react to such sentimentality, he would. Instead, he keeps his silence. His commander has been very good to him since the very start. The waves of appreciation towards the man clash at his heart as memories start streaming through his mind. His first day, his assignments, reports- it’s all going to change now?

 

“Sir, is this goodbye?”

 

“Yes, yes it is.” He puts away the picture and looks at the unsure soldier, Both of us are going to go through changes.”

 

“I’m sorry, sir?” Unconsciously, he tightens his fists below the table.

 

A sigh, then, he puts down his beret, revealing greying shaven hair. “You will get a new commander, a new officer. He had just finished officer training and has no real experience with babysitting boys like our unit.” There’s humor to his voice and Wonshik lets out a chuckle, as it seems fit.

 

“He’s around your age- maybe older, but he is the top of the grade, and you, mister Kim,” The dips around his eyes shift and sink further, disclose the slight joking mannerism from the older, “You will help him get accustomed to you, brats.” 

 

Again, courtesy of a chuckle that passes quickly, replaced by a stern expression, the same one he wears when writing reports.

 

“Sir,” Wonshik apprehensively addresses, “Should it not be another officer?”

 

The man gazes at Wonshik, and even though his eyes are directed straight at him, the younger can see by the silence and the roundness of his pupils, that his commander isn’t actually there. His thoughts aren’t present, as if that young soldier that sits before him, has triggered something with much more history.

 

“Perhaps it should be.” He says at last, but even his voice is mils away. Without missing a beat and with no hesitation he continues - “But I believe in you Wonshik.”

 

Suddenly, it feels all to personal, and the soldier isn’t sure what feeling passes by his gut and causes it to twist so uneasily- curiosity? Honor? Fear of stepping into something he shouldn’t have? The confinement of being within steel walls, somewhere in the middle of the territorial waters of South Korea keeps some of the steering unfamiliar state at bay, however, with the vastness of the sea beyond this minuscule room, the soldier can feel how something grand has been placed on his untrained shoulders. He has been on this ship for long, and while he is doing what is required of him, in no way the Ilbyeong is an officer. A harsh lump forms at the bottom of his throat, and he fights absent-mindedly to will it away.

Either way, as soon as the officer says his name - his own name, the younger feels every strand of hair on his body rise and just like before shooting a rifle, his senses are attending to one, and only one thing.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

The churning stays, humming low within him, and the soldier knows - the tides are changing, and he, with them, will have to change. It’s a promise of the unknown, and there’s not a single part of him that warns him about the worst. Just what exactly he got himself into?

 

* * *

 

“What?!” The second oldest exclaims, and  round of hushes around the canteen follow.

 

Jaehwan dips his face in shame and a silent ‘excuse me’ slips through his food-filled mouth. Hongbin puts down his beloved cup of coffee and shrugs - his attire for today consists of unshaved stubs and a pair of dark marks under his tired eyes. It must have been a very rough night, and usually, it’s after those that the two fight the most.

 

“He didn’t tell you for you to yell it at everyone.” Hongbin sighs, and leaves to take another cup.

 

Jaehwan frowns, “I didn’t yell…” Innocently, he turns to the oldest, “Right?”

 

The oldest doesn’t reply. He blinks, because Jaehwan already knows the answer to his question, and he isn’t going to waste the very little power he has in the morning on this. It is rare as it is to see him dining with everyone, as the soldier would usually work around the clock in the operation cabin. Wonshik peers an eye at him, but there seems to be no change in his expression whatsoever.

 

“Come on,” Jaehwan breaks the uncomfortable silence, “How an you be so calm, Taekwoon-hyung?”

 

The latter shrugs, fixing his beret in place. His eyes never twitch at the news and he watches with that same usual intensity the conversation in front of him. Wonshik had met Taekwoon on his very first night shift aboard- the younger was writing his report when he had simply passed by him. The second time, the same night, Wonshik was making a few adjustments to the equipment he carried with him, and decided to do so on deck. Taekwoon was watching him, and being a new soldier then, the younger felt pressured by the peering eyes and unchanging silence. He decided to offer the higher ranked one a simple gesture of a bow, and Taekwoon had left him quickly after. Ever since, they would meet on night shifts, share a bow and allow themselves to fall into the comfortable bedding of silence. He had figured that the older is like that, and by now, the strength of their friendship had grown soundless.

 

“Hyung is here for so long,” Jaehwan pushes another bun into his mouth, bringing Wonshik back to now, “You must be used for changes like this” The words are muffled by the food, and some bits of crumbles find their place on the table once more. By now, none of the soldiers are surprised by that, but the spoken words draw out an exhausted sigh from the oldest.

Taekwoon was here way before any of them had even joined, and each time anyone mentions the time the soldier still has to serve, the reaction is always the same; The eldest presses his cheek to the dirty table - thanks to the medic - heaving another sigh.

 

“See what you’ve done?” Hongbin groans, putting down two more cups of coffee. Wonshik wonders how Hongbin would function in a place without caffeine to keep him awake. The looming dark marks beneath his lashes suggest that it would be disastrous, causing the man to malfunction like an engine with a missing cork.

“You ratted out to the whole unit that we’re getting a newbie officer and bummed hyung out.”

 

Wonshik was expecting this fight to start sooner or later, and he would listen to the whines coming from Jehwan, or perhaps would try and stop the fight, but he knows better. At this state, the soldier isn’t even sure if any of them are aware of what exactly they’re bashing at one another mindlessly- for Hongbin with no doubt. Perhaps the man even practices fighting in his dreams, seeing and hearing how sharply he deflects any yelp from Jaehwan. He looks around for a moment, and the very fight happening before him is reduced to background noise, much like the rest of the conversations around the room, completed in harmony and complete cacophony with clanking dishes, laughter, and the occasional groans of the depleted hyung that still finds comfort with resting his head on the table.

 

The soldier decides to exclude himself from the disastrous ensemble of turbulence, gets up with his tray and walks away. So much for calming his nerves with the rest of the peers.

 

* * *

 

As every other day that the ship meets its berth, there’s a tingle of unspoken excitement within the crew. It could be a rainy day with thunderclouds towering above their heads, and the unit would still be in high as if it is a sunny day with cool breeze- just like today. The clouds are but mere spots here and there on the grand blue sky, and the salty air of waves is finally mixing with something that some may have forgotten throughout their trip. Some days, it seems that they would never escape the clasp of blue above and blue below, two horizons melting into a single silver line, teasing with its endless void of more and more blue to offer. However, on days such as these- where the dock is only but an hour away, and soldiers already murmur and exchange declarations of what they’re going to do when they disembark, the sky and sea become friendly and familiar. 

 

Some find it whimsical that so many people pay to spend time on a cruise, while they only dream of those rare days where they’re on land, and the floor below them doesn’t move non-stop, at all times. Here, where the only connection to land they have is the radio communication between the port and the operation room, it’s easy to miss this availability of land, of buildings, of fresh food, rest, and most of all- letters. The soldiers have been on edge, keen to get their letters, hearing back from relatives, loves and other close companions. Even the Ilbyeong’s cabin is listless, each giving their fair share of exhilarated exclamations about who they want to hear from, what their hopes for this rest are. It seems that for those who cruise with no halt at most times, their hopes and dreams are left at land, and perhaps it is because most of those hopes and dreams are still tied to the world beyond the high fence of the base. It’s a parallel universe, where they’re still the same people they have been in the civilian world, only accustomed to the military atmosphere, and little by little, letting go of previous versions of themselves. The heart is the same heart, but everything except for it- is different.

 

The commander passes by the cabins to check the unit’s readiness. Due to protocol, they must all discard their grey working clothes and place themselves in the white uniform, wearing both their ranks and speciality pins. They must be shaven, all clean and ready to show all the other units that they look best. Their weapons must be clean and polished as well, shoes spotless too, and berets on at all times, until they announce the docking and rest. There’s a tight ambience, and while the rest of the cabin spends time with bubbly chat about this and that, Wonshik cannot get his mind to be present. He descends into a spiral of thoughts about how fateful this stop is going to be. The waves- now shorter and less shaking, pick his senses more than the people within the bedroom. Soon, they will dock, and after that, they will embark once more, but everything will be different.

 

For soldiers, the most reassuring aspect of serving is knowing that the system cannot change. It’s too grand, too old for it to change so simply - and for it to have any effect on the small, unknown soldier. The unchanging face of units and divisions is what gives them confidence- being thrown into something so vast so quickly without many explanations as to why, how or what exactly is expected of them, is what keeps the small soldiers from breaking. Not every change is bad, he thinks, but every change carries an unknown result. The unknown, those things that soldiers cannot foresee, takes him back, back when he was still in training camp, where higher ups would shout commands and bind him to expectations he cannot fathom to understand. Not then, at least- he still had the mind of a civilian, he wasn’t aware of how the system works, and where exactly it needs him to be. Now, however, that soldier has evolved, becoming familiar with every single cell of this ecosystem, and even finding his own place in it. There’s a lot of comfort in the little spot where he doesn’t need to move from, staying still and only doing what he has been told to. He doesn’t have to think, he just has to act on command.

 

But even that changes, and when the outgoing commander comes in to check on their cabin, inspecting each and every one of them closely so there won’t be any slip-ups, Wonshik can barely breathe. This is it- this is the last time that their commander is going to inspect their attire. The lump from before floats back to his throat, and even the usual ‘yes sir’ he gives here and there, sounds more croaked than usual. The officer has done great things for the unit, and it is hard to imagine that a newbie officer could fill up the void that will be left after this day. However, Wonshik isn’t supposed to imagine, not in his position, he’s supposed to carry out commands, and that he shall do.

 

Before he notices, when the fog of his own thoughts rises, Wonshik is no longer in the cabin, rather than on the steps- the solid steps to the dock. How different everything seems now, even though this occasional situation of being lost in a sea of thoughts still occurs, when he wakes up from it, he faces a different reality. He’s not a new soldier anymore, and the last time he stood so fascinated by the ships and the port, it was that night when he was punished for bad manners in class. At a time, Wonshik could not understand and figure out why he is being punished, but not anymore. Looking back, with his present knowledge, there are many things he would change, but history is history. 

That night so long ago, he stood still, watching the now-familiar lull of waves, in complete silence, and watch the world turn without anyone needing to aid it. With or without the help of the faceless soldier, the universe is turning, ships will embark, commands will be carried out. He’s part of that harmony, a small cog in the system, and he’s pleased with being unknown in that manner.

There are those who break, but Wonshik isn’t the one do break this way. No, he’s a cog, and that’s all he will be. Cogs do not _cry_ at night like that soldier he saw back then. Cogs do not _imagine_ . Cogs have their _job_ , and he will do it _damn good_. There’s an odd sense of pride to it, knowing he’s doing exactly what he’s supposed to do, that he meets the system’s expectations.

 

“Men.” The commander starts, and somehow Wonshik finds himself in a line, standing and listening like his peers and the rest of the unit. He looks to the right, then to the left, meeting with perplexed gazes forwards as everyone-everything seems to be still. He cannot hear their breaths, but at this perfect position of the unit, the soldier sometimes wonders if they are unified in inhales and exhales as well.

 

“It has been my honor and utmost pleasure to serve as your commander.” He says, and Wonshik immediately stretches his position, ears perked for the inauspicious farewell of the familiar.

 

“You are one of the best units I had the honor to lead. Each and every one of you does wonders in his own field,” The man stops, a playful demeanor creeping to his expression, “Even our medic, soldier Lee Jaehwan, who had the highest self-treatment record any medic in the Navy had.”

 

The men laugh, and halt from it in unison. Wonshik feels the lump slowly reduce itself to nothing but an itch.

 

“Today, I am resigning, boys. Today, you are going to accept a new commander, and you better treat him well,” He moves in front of the line, watching them as he speaks, “Don’t make me come back here, I’m looking forward to my retirement.”

 

One more, laughter.

 

It should be light-hearted, and Wonshik knows that the officer tries to make it as detached as possible, when in reality, it’s nothing but. The laughter, masking a grave feeling of unwilling to have anything changed, drowning it between protocol and macro-spoken words from above restrain any sort of emotion to surface. However, the line of soldiers that stands still can feel it. It’s there, it’s clear like the sun and the ground. Like the high walls of the base, like the system that will function with or without them.

 

“Our unit might be small, as it is only 30 soldiers, but you are the finest soldiers the military has to offer. I ask of you to show this side to your new commander.” He stops in the middle of the line, where all men can see him, “Thank you for allowing me to lead you.” The elder dips his head slightly, and Wonshik feels the urge to shout a thank you back, but doesn’t. He shouldn’t.

 

Then, at the corner of his eye he meets a shadow- not exactly a dark one, but rather an unfamiliar figure in white attire and the dashing symbol of officers, shining brightly from the sun. The uniform is such a contrast to his tanned skin and dark eyes. There is not a single line of sternness in his features, and if not for the symbols and ranks, he could have been considered a regular soldier like the rest of them. However, the man marches in, and the commander that Wonshik had known for so long, leaves.

 

He cannot dwell on the anguish within him for long, as the unknown officer speaks, taking measured steps across a parallel line to them. His hands behind his back, walking tall and poised as he probably has been taught in officer training. He eyes all of them- each and every one of them in absolute silence, gaze piercing through, but with no real harshness to it. There are no kind lines around his eyes, no sign of age, rather than the clear, tanned skin.

 

“Hello, unit.” He speaks in a soft voice, and Wonshik can already hear Jaehwan snorting quietly next to him, mocking the fragile appearance of someone that should be their commander. The rest probably think similarly, but he doesn’t allow their judgement to interfere with this moment. The unknown becomes now familiar, and while not every aspect of it does, now he can connect with the new officer’s title, a face, an image.

 

“My name is _Sowi_ Cha Hakyeon.” He says, “And I am your new commander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment, sharing your thoughts on anything! They give me motivation, and I hope to deliver the next part a lot sooner than this one took.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment below! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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